In The Pursuit of Success
by SassyRaptor
Summary: Success is relative. Does Trish need to relearn how to be selfish? Sometimes, in certain cases, you need to put yourself first if that could meaning achieving your life goals. But - at what expense? And to what extent will a particular filmmaker go to make sure that she sees them through? Sequel to "Behind The Camera".
1. Chapter 1 - College & Confusion

**Remember when I said I'd start up a sequel? Well, I may or may not continue this, depending on what you readers think about it. It'll possibly be more serious and angsty in tone than its predecessor. Some more focus on Trish and Dez's relationship, too. Nothing is certain right now, just let me know what you all think!**

* * *

"Trish – what is this?" the chestnut-haired girl looks to her friend as her hand holds out a piece of paper that she had procured from the waste bin. The crumpled paper, still legible, had opened up to reveal formal, typed letter – with a letterhead bearing the logo of the University of California: Los Angeles.

The shorter girl looks up from her freshly-painted nails, her smile diminishing as she realizes what her best friend had just discovered in her bin. "Ally, why are you looking through my trash?"

"I accidentally dropped my earring in and – hey, don't change the subject!" She makes her way over to Trish, hopping up beside her on her bed. "Trish, you applied to UCLA?"

"Well, yeah, but –" the dark-haired girl starts.

"–You got accepted! And by the looks of this…" Ally continues, re-reading the letter, once again. "You got a full ride for the music industry program. Why would you throw this away?"

"Well, I was planning on recycling it, Ally, don't worry," Trish replies, trying to brush away the conversation as quickly as possible. This is clearly not something she wants to discuss.

"You _know_ that isn't what I meant, Trish," Ally rests her hand gently on her friend's shoulder. "Why would you throw away an opportunity like this? Please don't tell me this is about the team breaking up…You know that won't happen, no matter what."

"Ally, you gave up _MUNY_ for us, remember? You said you were living the dream already, and I happen to be part of that, too…" Trish explains, blowing at her damp fingernails.

"Well, then why did you even send in an application? I didn't send one to MUNY, you guys did that for me, remember? This…_You_ sent this application, Trish. You want to go to UCLA," Ally states, in an almost accusatory tone.

"I just wanted to see if I was good enough, Ally, that's all. I just wanted to know that I could if I wanted to," Trish continues to explain, unable to hold any sort of eye contact with her best friend at this point.

"Trish, you're my best friend," Ally takes Trish by the chin, turning her head around so that they could be face-to-face. "Don't lie to me. You want to go."

"I-I…I can't," Trish chokes out, suddenly sounding broken. She had done a pretty good job of appearing nonchalant up until this point. The truth had fought its way out, however. "I can't just leave you guys…I'm part of Team Austin and Ally. And even Dez needs me to help him out with his films and-"

"Trish, I never thought the day would come that I'd have to say this, but…You need to be more selfish," Ally states, her words coming off as more of a command than a request. Trish bites her lip.

"Four years, Ally…I'll be at the other side of the country, away from you guys, for four years," Trish pulls her head away from Ally's grasp on her chin, continuing to stare down at her hands. Her nail polish had dried at this point.

"Who said we can't keep in touch? We can face-chat everyday via MyTab – it'll be like you never left. Things don't have to change entirely, Trish…Only if you _let_ it happen," Ally adds, her tone softening up, seeing how distraught her friend had become.

"Maybe I should talk to Austin and Dez before I decide any –"

"–No, Trish. This is _your_ decision to make," Ally stops her. "You've helped me make tough decisions for my future in the past. Now I'm helping you. _Go for it_, if that's what you truly want. You have to think about your future here, Trish…"

All is silent for a few minutes, Trish continuing to state down at her nails, as Ally watches her, in concern. Trish had always been there for her and Austin's careers. She had even taken Dez on as a third client, helping him out with his film career path. Ally knows how overwhelmed Trish had become recently, even having to quit her job at Shredder's beach club, due to stress. She had never seen Trish work so hard in the past. It was as if she had spent a good amount of her younger years just relaxing and letting herself be happy, in preparation for all that she will have to struggle through for rest of her life.

They never had the time to hang out anymore, this one occasion being one of the few times they were even able to hang out casually for a little while. Trish places their needs before her own, something that certainly made her grow up in a way, but also worries Ally greatly. She is at a point where she is over-doing it. Ally has known for a while that Trish desires formal training, as it is very difficult learning the trade on your own.

_So why would she give up such an opportunity?_ Ally wonders.

"Let's go meet the guys and get something to eat," Trish offers, breaking the intense silence. Ally simply nods, and grabs her bag.

* * *

"And then, Austin just walked right into a pole – hah!" Dez laughs out, finishing up his little anecdote. Austin shoves his best friend, playfully. Ally and Trish join Dez in laughter. The group had gathered at Mini's to hang out, like old times.

"Dude! It wasn't my fault, light got reflected into my eye somehow," Austin tries explaining himself.

"Yeah, yeah, keeping telling yourself that, buddy," Dez pats his blonde friend on the back, giving him a condescending smile.

"So…Guys, Trish has some big news," Ally says, changing the subject. The boys turn to Trish, awaiting the news.

"Uhm…Well," Trish eyes Ally, glaring a little. "N-Nothing's official yet, but…"

"You're getting a pet ostrich?!" Dez cries out. "That is so cool, Trish! Y'know I had a pet ostrich once –"

"–No, you doof! That's not what I was gonna sa–" Trish cuts him off, only to have herself be stopped by Austin.

"–You booked me to play for the Queen of England?!" he exclaims. He reaches over to hug Trish. "You're the best manager ever!" he releases her, then high-fives Dez. "Woo! Does this mean I have to sing in a British accent or…?" Ally shakes her head at her boyfriend's silliness.

"That's not the news either, Austin," Ally explains. Austin pouts, shoulders drooping.

"Aw, man," he mutters. He suddenly perks up again, "So…What is the big news, Trish?"

"I'll tell you when you two doofs stop trying to guess," Trish glares at the two childlike boys. They smile back at her, innocently.

"I…" Trish looks to Ally, for support. Ally smiles, gesturing with her hands, telling Trish to go on. "Well, I…Got accepted into UCLA." The boys' smiles drop into awestruck countenances, mouth agape.

"Wow…Trish, that's awesome!" Austin cheers, after gathering his thoughts. He reaches over to give his manager, and friend, yet another hug. "Congratulations!" He pulls away, and Ally smiles at him, glad his response had been a positive one. Dez, on the other hand, doesn't speak up.

"Yeah, I got a letter of acceptance…" she holds up the crinkled paper. "A full ride into the music industry program. But…I wasn't sure if I wanted to go. I wouldn't abandon you guys…" Austin shakes his head, then puts his hand down on hers, resting on the table.

"Trish, you should go for it. You've always been there, helping us all with our dreams. It's time you go achieve yours," Austin adds, gripping her hands. Trish smiles, feeling much better about the whole ordeal. "And you won't lose us either, right Ally?" He turns to the chestnut-haired girl.

"Of course not, we'll talk to you every day over face-chat, like I said," Ally nods. Austin releases Trish's hand, then turns to Dez, who had been silent the whole time. Trish raises a brow at the red-head.

"_Well?_" she asks him, wanting it to come across as more of an order, but ending up being much softer in tone. "What? Not happy for me, Freckles?" she asks, her tone of voice, again, sounding weaker than what she had wanted. Dez looks away for a moment, then shifts his gaze straight at her.

He opens his mouth to say something, but his words get caught in his throat. Instead, he lets out a steady breath and decides that a look would get his message across well enough. He stares at her for a few moments, with tightened lips and slightly glazed-over eyes. Y_ou know why I'm upset, Trish,_ he cries out in his mind, hoping that somehow she could hear his thoughts. He gets up from the table, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"I'll see you guys later," he says, looking between Austin and Ally. He gives one last glare to Trish, then takes his leave. Trish watches him go, until he disappears into the crowd.

"I _knew_ he was gonna be like this," Trish shouts out, shaking her head. "Why does he have to be so…_Ugh!_" She buries her face into her hands. "He keeps trying to make me feel guilty. He needs to stop!" Austin puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. Trish looks up from her hands at her blonde friend.

"I'll go talk to him, Trish," he comforts her, then hops up from his seat. He leans down to give Ally a quick kiss goodbye. "I'll see you guys later," he says as a starts walking away, to track down his freckled friend.

"Trish…" Ally tilts her head at her best friend. "Does Dez have anything to do with you wanting to stay?"

"Ally, I just don't want him to hate me. He's been making me feel guilty, y'know? With all that 'friendzone' crap," Trish growls. "I swear, I should smack him more than I usually do, but I've been trying to control myself."

"He actually said you friend-zoned him?" Ally raises a brow. "Trish, you know you shouldn't take that. He can't try to guilt you into–"

"–No, no…He didn't _actually_ say that. I just…I think he got the wrong vibe from me," Trish shakes her head. Ally shrugs, looking down at the table.

"Well, you _did_ kiss him a couple months ago," she adds.

"Ally, that wasn't–" Trish starts.

"–I know, I know. It was for _revenge_, or whatever you want to call it. You should have thought that through, though. Kissing him as revenge for kissing you would likely make a person think that you have feelings for them," Ally explains, smirking a little. "_Do you_?"

"Ally, I just…I've been so busy lately. I don't have time for a boyfriend right now…And this _is_ Dez we're talking about here. You know how we are. I'm positive that this'll bring about a whole lotta arguments and drama that I just _can't_ deal with right now." Trish takes a deep breath, then continues, "Plus, I don't know if I really feel that way about him. The idea's still really strange to me."

"So…You think four years away at college may give you both time to think?" Ally asks, pondering over Trish's words. Certainly, in the past, she figured that if Trish and Dez ever started actually dating, it would be quite strange. She figured they'd be happy, all the same. Perhaps not, though? They _do_ argue over the smallest things, at times. However, there is not a single doubt in her mind that they care for each other.

"I don't know…_Maybe?_ I feel kind of trapped being here with him, Ally. It's like I can't even look at another guy without feeling guilty, y'know? And we're not even together. Why do I feel like I'm his girlfriend when I'm not?" she exhales sharply. "He doesn't even say anything to me about it. He just gives me that dejected look, then walks away. And I end up feeling bad."

"You shouldn't, Trish. Don't let his feelings control what _you_ want," Ally reaches over and hugs her friend. "But I do think you might have feelings for him," she says into Trish's hair. The two girls part in their hug. Trish stands up from her seat, looking down at Ally.

"I honestly don't know, Ally. And if he _really_ cared about me, then he'd be happy for me, right?" Ally frowns, as her friend had made a very good point. Trish lets out a heavy sigh. "Anyway...I need to get going. Gotta talk to my parents about this UCLA thing. I'll see you later, Als." With that, Trish turns around and heads homeward.

* * *

**Well, that was the first chapter! Let me know what y'all think! Should I continue this?**

–**AJ**


	2. Chapter 2 - Disclosures & Departures

**Welp, new chapter! Prepare for very emotional sorta stuff, I guess?**

**Also, I'd like to thank SakuraSpark, the guest reviewer, WinterFairy7337, austlly394, purplenutellaaaa, escritoradenovelastrez, & sexiboisgiggler for your lovely reviews on the last chapter! Your support is very muchly appreciated. :D**

* * *

"_Dez!_" the blonde-haired performer calls out to his best friend. "Dez, _wait up_!" Austin's athletic abilities prove useful in his efforts to catch up to Dez. He reaches over, grabbing the red-head by the shoulder. "Dez! What's wrong?" The freckled teen comes to a halt, letting out a heavy exhale.

"-Hm?" he turns around, putting on a cheery face for his friend. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong, buddy. I'm good," he answers, shrugging. Although merry words escape his lips, his glazed-over eyes tell an entirely different tale. "_I'm fine,_" he insists.

Austin, knowing his best friend on a level that no other person possibly could, is quick to wrap his arms around the ginger. Dez is hesitant to return the hug, but eventually gives into the embrace.

"It's okay, Dez. You can talk to me, you _know_ that," Austin consoles him. He does not _really _need to know why Dez is as upset as he is. With a friendship like theirs, Austin _already_ knows. However, he figures that Dez talking about his problems may help him cope. Or, at the very least, be able to release the feelings he's been trying so hard to keep pent-up.

Dez buries his face into Austin's shoulder. He's never been the strong sort when it came down to keeping in his emotions. Heck, he cried over the most trivial things, at times. Try as he might, his resolve dilutes with the aid of his tears. Austin, listening to the now-heavy sobs of his friend crying into his shoulder, rubs his back for comfort. They had attracted a bit of attention from nearby folk, who were thirsty for some entertainment.

Naturally, Austin couldn't stand for this. He breaks away from the hug in order to address the small crowd. "There's nothing to see here, you guys, move along," he says, shooing them away. He then faces his friend, taking him by the arm, leading him over and sitting him down on one of the benches by the mall fountain. "Dez…Talk to me, buddy."

"I want to be happy for her, man. I _really_ do," Dez chokes out, dropping his backpack beside him, and burying his face into his hands. A few tears slip through the tight spaces between his fingers, as he continues, "I _need_ her, Austin. And I _know_ I'm being selfish. I don't want to be, _I just…_" his voice trails off. Austin rubs his buddy's back, urging him to go on.

"It's okay to be upset about this, Dez. Me and Ally aren't happy about being so far away from one of our best friends, either, y'know. But…Dez, we gotta think about Trish, and what she wants," Austin says, continuing to rub Dez's back. "And…We're not losing her. C'mon, Dez, you're the tech-expert. You could video chat with her every day, if you wanted."

"It's not the same, Austin," Dez answers, lifting his face out from the grasp of his hands. He wipes his reddened eyes with his wrist, then interlaces his fingers in his lap, as he leans forward in his seat. "People say they'll stay in contact, but…When you're so far away from people, it's hard. You forget what it's like to feel their presence…The warmth of their hugs, the crisp sound of their voice…The painful sting you get when they punch you after you make a joke at their expense," he says, sniffling a bit, regaining strength in his voice. "You forget, Austin. I don't _want_ to forget. I can't move on, we just started really connecting and now she's going away and I can't–" his voice cracks, sounding broken once again.

"–Dez–" Austin starts, trying to gather up words of comfort, gripping Dez's shoulder.

"–And you _know_ what happened with her and Jace. Long distance relationships don't work out for everyone, Austin. They don't work for Trish," Dez adds, voice growing all the weaker. Austin stares at his friend, who had now focused his gaze on his interlaced hands, a few more tears trickling down his freckled face. Not sure of what to say, Austin puts a comforting arm around him.

"But, you're right," Dez continues. "This isn't about _me_…It's not about _us_. This is about _Trish_." He inhales deeply, and lets out a slow, steady exhale. "I can't be selfish. I want her to be happy, I do. But I can't just ignore how I'm feeling, either,"

"You should tell her," Austin offers, suddenly speaking up. "She should know, Dez."

"No, no…I can't do that to her. I can't guilt her into not going – what kind of friend would I be if I did?" Dez shakes his head. "Maybe we should just…Stop talking to each other, at least for a little while."

"Dez, that's only gonna make her feel worse," Austin replies, wondering what the heck Dez is thinking.

"No, it won't. In fact, she'll be _glad_ that I'm out of her life," Dez states, eyes widening as if he had reached some sort of epiphanic realization. "Yeah…She'll forget, and I'll forget. And we can just…_Move on_,"

"Dez…? What're you–" Austin starts, as Dez shushes him, pressing a finger to Austin's lips.

"–Nothing. Don't worry about it, buddy," the red-head smiles back at his friend, removing his finger from his Austin's lips and patting him on the back. Dez grabs his backpack, slings it over one shoulder, then hops onto his feet. "I'll see you later, Austin." With that, he starts walking away, his smile morphing into a look of anguish, once again.

_I have to do this_, Dez tells himself. _For her._

* * *

"_Now boarding flight 272 to LAX_," said the announcer's voice through the speakers on the columns of the gate. This is it.

"Trish! That's your flight!" Ally cries out, shaking slightly. She couldn't believe it. Her friend, her best friend in the whole world – the girl who's been almost like a sister to her – was actually leaving. The brown-haired girl had let herself cry it all out the night before, so that she would not say goodbye to Trish with tears in her eyes. This clearly did not help, as Ally feels them flooding her eyes, once again, at the announcement. "I…I can't believe you're…You're actually _going_," Ally says, sniffling a bit as she lets a few tears escape. Trish wraps her arms around her best friend.

"Ally…Don't cry. Video chat, _remember?_ Promise me you'll face-chat with me any chance you get, okay?" Trish smiles at her friend, as she pulls away from the hug. "I love you, Ally. Don't you forget that." Ally nods, still in tears, but a smile now forming on her face.

"I love you too, Trish!" Ally cries out, pulling her friend in for yet another tight embrace.

"Ally…You're choking me," Trish squeaks, suffocating from her friend's surprisingly strong hug. Ally lets go, biting her lip.

"Sorry…I just…I'm gonna miss you so much," Ally smiles at her friend.

"Hey, I'm gonna miss you too!" Austin butts into the tender conversation, pulling Trish into a hug, as well. "But not too much, cause I'm gonna be there with Ally when she video chats with you." Trish smiles at him, returning the hug.

"But of course, can't leave my client hanging! And don't worry, I'm sure I can still book gigs for both of you guys from the other side of the country," Trish adds, smirking. "Cause that's the kinda can-do person I am." Austin chuckles, shaking his head.

"That's awesome, Trish. Thank you. But, seriously, focus on _you_ for the most part. You're gonna do awesome, I know it."

A few more goodbyes, and some very emotional hugs, are exchanged between Trish and her family, as well as Ally's dad and even Chuck and Dez's sister, Didi.

However, no Dez in sight.

"_Boarding flight 272 to LAX_," the voice over the speakers booms, yet again.

_Where is he?_ Trish wonders, chewing on her lip as she looks around for the tall goofball. Austin and Ally, seeing her so distraught, are quick to try and comfort her, knowing exactly who she's looking around for.

"Dez probably got caught up in traffic, Trish. I'll text him. You should get going, or you'll miss your flight," Austin urges her. He pulls out his phone and starts to text his best friend.

"Yeah, Trish, don't worry – you can call him once you land maybe?" Ally adds, cheerfully. Trish nods, putting on a little smile.

"Yeah, the whack-a-doodle probably got lost or something," Trish chuckles. She notices Austin frowning down at his phone. Trish's brows pucker together in confusion. "What's wrong, Austin? Is Dez okay?"

"Y-Yeah…It's just…" Austin starts, finding it difficult to look Trish in the eyes at this point. "Trish…He's not coming." The curly-haired girl's face drops, her throat becoming cold and constricting.

"Wh…What do you mean he's not coming?" Trish demands, trying her best to sound as tough as she possibly could. She wouldn't let him ruin this moment for her.

"I…I don't know Trish, he just said that he's not coming," Austin frowns, looking down at his shoes.

"_Last call for flight 272 to LAX_," booms the speakers.

"I…I need to go," Trish utters, grabbing her carry-on, wheeled suitcase. "Goodbye, you guys." They wave her off as she turns away, heading towards her flight. Ally buries her face into Austin's chest, finding it difficult to watch her best friend leave. He attempts to console her, although knowing just how she feels, wanting to turning away himself.

* * *

Managing to find her seat on the plane, Trish tries to lift her suitcase into the overhead compartment, struggling in doing so due to her short stature. Just as the suitcase is about to fall back on top of her, a pair of hands catches it, lifting it into the compartment.

"Oh! Thanks, I thought I was gonna–," Trish stops, taking in the view of her savior. "_Trent?!_"

"In the flesh!" the clean-cut male replies. "Hey, Trish – you on this flight?"

"Y-Yeah…I got a full scholarship into UCLA," Trish shrugs, looking away, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

"Woah! F'real? That's awesome, Trish! I'm real happy for you," he replies, quite genuinely. Trish takes her seat by the window, and he takes the one beside her. "Isn't it crazy we're on the same flight _and_ have seats right next to each other?"

"Yeah, yeah, real crazy _– look, Trent_," Trish spat his name like it was poison on her lips. "Let me cut to the chase here. You're still not forgiven, and we're _not_ friends. So you're gonna shut up and not bother me, _got it?"_ she states in a cut-throat manner. Trent gives her a small smile.

"I don't blame you, Trish. What I did to you…And to your friends…That was unforgivable," Trent nods, facing forward. "I'm trying to come clean, though. Be a better man," he continues. "I'm actually headed over to L.A. to help out my grandparents."

"Aww, cute story. Real cute," Trish scoffs, turning her attention to a magazine that she had just pulled out of the pocket behind the seat in front of her.

"I'm serious, Trish," he chuckles. "But…That's okay, you don't have to believe me. I get it." He puts his headphones on. "Just…No hard feelings, okay? Besides…" he turns to face her again. "I always _did_ like you, y'know. I still do."

Trish rolls her eyes, pulling out her phone. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, pretty boy." With that, Trent smirks, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair as he listens to his tunes.

Trish stares at her phone, debating whether or not to send Dez a text. A stewardess comes by, spotting her phone.

"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to turn your phone off, as we're about to ascend," the smiley woman explains to her.

"Okay, just one moment," Trish replies, chewing on her lower lip as she stares back at her phone. She finds Dez in her contacts, then opens up a new text conversation. A million thoughts flood into her mind, as she tries to figure out just what to say to the boy.

"Miss? You really need to power off your phone now," the flight attendant says again, her smile dropping just slightly. Trish nods, quickly typing out a text and hitting 'send' just before shutting down her phone.

* * *

Dez groans, rolling around in his bed and reaching over to his beeping cellphone. He checks the messages. A few from Austin, asking him over and over again as to why he didn't come. A few from Ally, berating him angrily for not being there at the airport. He also got one from his dog, which was simply a bunch of random, jumbled characters. He wonders why the dog has a phone in the first place.

The last text, however, the newest one, is from none other than the feisty, curly-haired girl that knew he had disappointed. Bracing himself for harsh words, expecting nothing less from the bellicose girl, he checks the message.

No harsh words could cause as much hurt in him as much as this particular text message did, however. His lower lip quivers a bit, as he rereads the text over as over again, not quite believing what he's read:

_I'll miss you… _

–_Trish_

* * *

**ALL THE FEELS**

_**What the heck am I doing? Why is Trent here? o:**_

**Hope you liked this! Let me know what you think!**

**-AJ**


	3. Chapter 3 - Reasoning & Responsibility

**Thanks again to all my supportive reviewers! You guys are such sweeties. ;_; Don't be afraid to critique, too! If anything's unclear and/or worded weirdly, lemme know! ;D**

* * *

_Are you sure you want to delete this message?,_ read the pop-up on his bright little cellphone screen. After hitting "no", he sets the phone down on his side-table and seats himself on his bed. He runs his fingers through his auburn locks, feeling somewhat light-headed due to lack of sleep. His drowsy eyes move up to the Zalien egg-themed clock hanging on the wall opposite him.

Eight in the morning. Had he really been up all night trying to figure out how to reply?

Trish must be in L.A. by now, Dez figures, clasping his hands together in his lap and leaning forward. He isn't sure if it's the lack of sleep or the thought of her words that make his stomach churn. Heavy with guilt, he feels sick to the stomach. He lifts himself up from his bed, only to jump at the sound of his phone playing an upbeat tune. _Austin_.

Austin called several times the night before, so much so that Dez figured that he had given up by now. Realizing that there is probably no way he could avoid having this talk with his best friend, Dez answers the phone, "Hey, buddy."

"Don't '_hey, buddy_' me, Dez. Why weren't you at the airport yesterday?" Austin's demanding voice booms through the phone, causing Dez to wince slightly. "Do you have any idea how much you hurt Trish? Dez, that was just _wrong_. She's your friend, you should've been there for her." Dez sucks in a large amount of air, holds it in for a few seconds, then exhales – trying to pull himself together in order to properly respond to Austin.

"Austin, look – I-I don't really want to talk about this right now, okay? I'm not feeling well," Dez groans. It certainly isn't a lie, as the pain he feels in his gut continues to grow.

"Oh…I'm…I'm sorry to hear that, man, I hope you feel better," Austin's voice softens. He can tell how pained Dez is, just through the sound of his voice. Not just from sickness, however. Something _much_ deeper.

"I hope so, too," Dez replies, his voice reflecting his pain. "Can we…Can we talk about this later, maybe? I really need to lie down–" Dez pauses, hearing a beep from his phone, indicating that he has another call. He pulls his phone away from his ear to check.

_Trish._

He taps "decline" on the incoming call, then resumes talking to his blonde friend, "Hello?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. You didn't answer my question," Austin states, wondering why there was a pause.

"Sorry, I had an incoming call. What was the question?" Dez asks him, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes shut tight, feeling a migraine coming on.

"Who was calling?" Austin questions him, even though he has a pretty good idea of who it must have been.

"That's not your question, Austin," Dez responds, trying to change the subject. Austin couldn't remember the last time he heard Dez sound as cold as he does at this moment. As if he is trying his hardest to keep everything in, which he rarely ever does.

"It was Trish, wasn't it? Dez, you should've answered," Austin frowns. He remembers the broken look on Trish's face after telling her Dez wouldn't come to see her before she left. It is not a look Trish wore often, and it was hard for him to see her like that. _If Dez could have seen her, too…_, Austin wonders to himself.

"Yeah. It was. What was your question?" Dez proceeds on, wanting to shove any thoughts of Trish away. He just cannot bring himself to talk about it right now. Austin figures that it would be best to save this conversation for later.

"I asked if you wanted to hang out later. At Sonic Boom? We could go instrument fishing or something. That always cheers you up!" Austin offers.

"Sure thing, buddy," Dez replies, though not as enthusiastically as he usually does when Austin asks him to join in on some antics. "I'll see ya later." Before Austin can even say goodbye, Dez hangs up. He sets the phone down on his side-table, then hops back into his bed. He isn't sure if he'll be able to rest, however.

* * *

"Maybe he's still asleep, Trish…" Trent tells the curly-haired girl as they wait for their luggage at the baggage claim. Trish shakes her head.

"I got sent straight to voicemail. He didn't want to pick up," she bites her lower lip, trying her best to keep it together. Trent takes her hand gently, in attempts to comfort her, but she quickly pulls it away. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Just tryna help. Sorry…I guess I shouldn't have done that," Trent grimaces nervously, rubbing the back of his head, then sticking his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah, you shouldn't've," Trish shoots back at him, scowling. Trent looks away, suddenly feeling very afraid of the girl. Her glower tends to do that to people.

"Oh – hey! Look! My bag!" Trent exclaims, quickly changing the subject and rushing towards his luggage. He pulls it off of the conveyer, then spots, well, _spots_. A couple of suitcases decorated with cheetah-print designs follow his luggage.

"These yours, Trish?" Trent asks the girl. She nods, and Trent pulls them off, as well. "Here ya go." Trish takes the heavy bags and hoists them onto the dolly cart that she had procured earlier, then heads off towards the exit, leaving Trent behind. But of course, he decides to follow. Irritated, she turns around to face him.

"Trent, quit following me!" she shouts at him, causing a few heads to turn. She glares at the people around them, warning them with her vicious mug to mind their own business. They look away quickly, not wanting to get into any confrontation.

"I just wanted to make sure you get where you need to go," Trent responds. "You came here all alone, and you don't have any friends or family nearby. But you got me." She isn't sure as to why she even informed him during the plane ride that she will be all alone in Los Angeles.

"_How reassuring_," Trish remarks, sarcastically. "Look, _Trent_," she states, in a foreboding tone of voice, "I can take care of myself. _Get lost_." She turns back around, waving her arm in attempts to try and call over a taxi. Trent smirks, admiring her attitude.

"Well, okay. I'll leave you alone. _But_," he pulls a notepad and pen out from the side pocket of his backpack. He scribbles down his number, rips the piece of paper out of the notepad, moves in front of Trish and hands it over to her. "If you need anything – anything at all, just call. If you're in trouble or just need somebody to talk to…Call me, okay?" Trish rolls her eyes, but grabs the piece of paper and stuffs it into her purse.

"Fine. Now _go_," the feisty girl demands, shooing him away. Trent nods, grabbing his luggage and heading off in another direction.

* * *

"Caught a large one!" Austin exclaims, reeling in a cello up onto the stairs. He pulls it up, and puts it into a pile with the other instruments that he and Dez had 'caught'.

"Austin! Careful, okay? Every time you two play this game, something breaks," Ally chides them from the register area.

"Don't worry, Als, we'll be careful!" Austin calls back to his girlfriend, Dez silently nodding beside him. "You wanna join us?"

"As much fun as that sounds," she snarks, "I need to watch the store."

"C'mon Ally, it's a slow day. Besides, you should take a break," Austin replies, giving her a sweet smile. "You work way too hard. You need to play hard, too!" Ally smiles back up at him.

"Maybe later…I'm actually waiting on Trish's call. She told me she'd face-chat with us via myTab once she's at her dorm," Ally explains, picking her myTab up off of the counter.

"Oh, that's right! Trish's gonna call!" Austin puts down his finishing rod, then slides down the railing of the staircase on his butt. He rushes over to Ally's side and hops up and takes a seat on the counter. "I hope she's enjoying L.A. so far. I'm kinda worried, y'know…Her being all alone there."

"Please, Austin…This is _Trish_ we're talking about, she'll be fine," Ally comments, trying to reassure herself more than anything. She had to admit, the same worry had been plaguing her mind ever since she watched Trish board her plane to LAX.

Just as expected, her myTab starts to ring – Trish calling them to face-chat. Ally is quick to accept, excited to see her friend's face again. It had been a long, heart-wrenching night for her. It is refreshing to know that she can still see Trish often enough.

Austin looks over at Dez standing on the staircase, and beckons him over, gesturing with his hands. Dez shakes his head and heads on up to the practice room. The blonde frowns, remembering that he still needs to have a chat with Dez about the whole Trish-situation. He turns back around, smiling once Trish's face appears on the screen.

"Guess who's got an awesome dorm room in Los Angeles?" Trish states, doing her signature pose. She giggles, then adds. "Hi Ally, hi Austin! I miss you guys already."

"Trish! We miss you too!" Ally cries out. "Who am I gonna have girl-time with now?" Ally pouts, causing Austin to chuckle.

"You can have girl-time with me, Als," Austin comments. Ally gives him a look, and he quickly adds, "Yeah…Nevermind, that'd be weird." Austin then looks back at Trish. "So Trish, how're you liking Los Angeles?"

"The weather's nice and hot – reminds me a little of Miami. I didn't really get a chance to see much of the city yet, though…Still getting settled in," she says. She pauses for a beat, then adds, "Well...Not everything's all peaches-and-cream."

"Why? What's wrong?" Ally asks, her worries flooding her mind, once again. "Are you okay?"

"Trent's here, too. He was on my plane. Actually…His seat was right next to mine – _can you believe that_?" Trish remarks, sounding frustrated. Both Austin's and Ally's jaws drop, astounded. They figured that they had seen the last of Trent when he was made a fool of on the Wanda Watson Show.

"_What?_" the two singers exclaim in unison.

"He was trying to act all nice and stuff…I think he might be up to something. Tch, talking like he's a _changed man_ and all that crap," Trish scoffs. "But anyway, I'm not too worried about him."

"Well, if he bothers you, let us know and we'll be on the next flight to L.A.," Austin assures her. "If any weirdos bother you…Or if anything at all happens, let us know, okay?" Trish nods, happy to know that she could get such support from thousands of miles away.

"Say…Speaking of weirdos…Where's Dez?" Trish asks, her voice sounding timid, rather than the usual snarky tone she carries when talking about the redhead.

"Oh…Uh…He's um…He's up in the practice room…I'll…I'll go get him," Austin tells her, hopping off of the counter and heading upstairs.

* * *

"I'm not talking to her, Austin, and that's final!" Dez shouts back at Austin, exasperated. Austin, after about five minutes of trying to convince his best friend to come downstairs and join the video chat, decides to address the issue at hand.

"Dez – can you just tell me what's wrong?" Austin asks him, trying to look his friend in the eye. Dez faces away from him, avoiding all eye-contact. "It's later _now_, Dez. _Spill._"

"I-I can't talk to her," Dez finally cracks. He turns away, facing the wall, "You have no idea how hard that would be for me, okay?! I need to move on, Austin…And seeing her isn't going to help."

"That's what this is all about? That's why you didn't show up at the airport? To save yourself from hurt feelings?" Austin shakes his head slightly, appalled by what he's hearing. "Dez, me and Ally didn't want to see her go, either. Trish is our best friend."

"It's not the same thing, Austin! It's…It's not…" frustrated, Dez turns back around to face Austin. "How would you feel if Ally left, and moved across the country? Huh?" the red-head demands.

"Dez, that's not the same thing, I _love_ Ally…" Austin trails off, noticing the now-softened look on his best friend's face. It dawns on him, the message his friend had been trying to convey. "Woah…Dez…I knew you had feelings for her, but wow…_Really?_"

"I just want her to be happy, Austin. But she can't do that until we both move on," Dez shakes his head, burying his face into his hands as he takes a seat on a nearby chair. He rubs his face with his hands, then removes them from his face and looks up at his blonde friend. "This isn't just about me and my feelings…This is about _her_. Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? To pretend that I don't care – that I don't want to see her?" his eyes, now glazed-over with fresh tears, continue to stare up at Austin.

Austin nods, sighing. "Man, that's…That's really heavy," he says, not quite sure what to add at this point. "I should get back to the video chat now. Trish and Ally are waiting…" Austin turns around, heading out the door. Just as he's about to leave the room, he turns back to Dez. "I still don't think what you're doing is right, buddy. And…I really hope you two work this out," with that, Austin heads on downstairs, leaving Dez staring solemnly at the door.

Dez pulls his cellphone out from his pocket, then opens up Trish's text. He types up a short reply and hits send, hoping that he's doing the right thing.

_Goodbye, Trish._

–Dez

* * *

**So I'm getting feels just writing this. OTL**

**I hope you liked this chapter! Or hated it, because of it being depressing. Like-hated it? I hope you had some sort of strong feelings about this chapter, yes? XD**

**I'll try my best to add chapters on a weekly basis, but I am graduating soon and got tons of stuff to get done, so I can't promise anything 100%. ^^;**

**Peace!**

**-AJ**


	4. Chapter 4 - Goals & Goodbyes

**Next chapter's up! Finally! ;D**

**Thanks again to all my love-a-ly and supportive reviewers! You guys are fantabulous.**

* * *

"What does he even mean by '_goodbye_'?" the short-tempered girl shouts, slamming her cellphone onto her bed, only to have it bounce back up and hit her right in the face. "Ow!" she screeches, rubbing her injured eye. Her cellphone falls down beside her feet, just barely missing her exposed toes.

"Careful, Trish," Trent rushes over, laughing lightly at the scene. "Hehe, you okay?" he asks, walking over, swooping down and collecting her phone. He hands it back to her, then adds, "Let me get you some ice for that eye."

"No, that's okay Tre–" Trish starts, a bit too late. Trent had already rushed out of the dorm room to collect some ice from the kitchen down the hall. She sits herself down onto her bed, keeping one hand on the eye that her cellphone had slammed into. With her other hand, she grips her phone, her uncovered eye looking down, again, at the text message on her now-slightly cracked screen. "_Goodbye…_" she utters quietly. Try as she might, she cannot stop the sinking feeling in her chest that this simple two-word text had brought upon her. Her body is unsure of how to respond at the moment, and her mind unsure of how to react emotionally. Anger and aggression was her initial answer from her mind and body, sure – but _now_ _what?_

Curl up and cry about it? No. That isn't the _Trish_ way.

However, it does not seem that far-fetched of an idea at this time. _No one's around, Trish…You can let your guard down_, her mind instructs her. _No, Trent will be back any moment with the ice_, she reminds herself, sucking it up. She swallows down the lump that had risen into her throat and pulls herself together, tossing her phone, gently, beside her on the bed.

Just as expected, Trent returns shortly with the bag of ice he had set out to collect. Trish removes her hand from her now purple-tinted eye area and takes the bag. She presses the bag onto the affected eye, hissing in pain as the cold from the ice stings her. "Thanks," she lets out, looking back up at Trent.

"Hey, no problem. Like I said, I'm here for ya, Trish," the tall boy states, seating himself on the bed beside her, bouncing slightly as he does so. "What are friends for, anyway?"

"You're _not _my friend, Trent," she snaps at him, turning and glaring at him with her one exposed eye. Trent puts his hands up in defense.

"Hey, hey, I may not be _your_ friend, but I consider you one of mine. And that's fine with me," he says, shrugging and putting his hands down onto his lap. "So…You wanna talk about this Dez situation or…?" he continues to pry. Trish tightens her lips, growing all the more annoyed with the guy.

"Trent, the only reason I called you here is because you're the only person I actually know. I don't trust you enough to tell you stuff like this, okay? The moment I make a friend here, you're never gonna hear from me again, got it?" she explains to him, now regretting calling him over in the first place_. He's probably just being nice 'cause he wants me to book gigs for him or something,_ she figures.

"If you really care about the guy, then why are you beating around the bush? Just _tell_ him," he advises her, changing the subject. "And y'know…If he doesn't take it well, then…Forget about him. There are other fish in the sea," he adds, winking at her flirtatiously. Trish's face shows disgust as she leans away from him.

"Yeah, and sharks, too," she snarks, letting out a sharp exhale.

"Hey, I only bite a _little_," he remarks, grinning and leaning in towards her. She heavily shoves him off of the bed, her wall of patience now completely shattered.

"Get out!" she orders him, pointing at the door with her free hand.

"But Trish–" he starts, picking himself up off the floor.

She cuts him off before he can defend himself, "Just…_Go_." He nods, obliging to her command as he collects his backpack off the floor and heads on out. He looks back at her just as he's about to completely disappear from her vision.

"_Tell him_," he urges her, then shuts the door fully. He heads out, feeling quite good about his visit. _I'm making progress with her_, he tells himself, flashing a smile as he leaves the building.

Trish sets the bag of ice down on her side table, then grabs her phone and sets it beside the bag. She lays herself down on her bed and stares up at the ceiling, contemplating her next step in this whole Dez-situation. _Perhaps there isn't a next step?_ Dez made it pretty damn clear that he didn't want to talk to her. What with not showing up at the airport, not being there for the video chat with Austin and Ally, and now this hollow 'goodbye' text. Why the heck should she be pining after a guy who's giving her the silent treatment because of her moving away?

_Childish_, she thinks, turning over and laying on her side as she tries to get more comfortable. She sighs, figuring that this whole difficulty with Dez isn't worth the time and mental energy she's putting into it. She has other things to worry about now – like her classes, for example. She isn't going to let Dez mess this up for her. She made it into _UCLA_, for crying out loud!

_I need to get my priorities straight_, she decides.

* * *

"_CUT!_" the fiery-haired director shouts at his actors, embarrassed by their lackluster performance. Austin, Ally, and a few others had gathered at the beach to help Dez out with shooting his short film. "I'm not paying you guys to goof off – be serious about this! This is my midterm, okay? I _need_ a good grade," he explains, exasperated. The past few months had been stressful for him, to say the least. Instead of moping over Trish's absence, he dove right into his movie projects in order to deal – constantly working on various film pieces to add to his portfolio. It seems like the only time him, Austin and Ally even hang out anymore is when he needs them to act in his flicks.

"You don't pay us at _all_, Dez,"Ally rebuts, growing frustrated by his temper_. Since when did Dez become so focused on good grades, anyway?_, Ally wonders. Of course, Dez always _did_ take directing more seriously than anything else in his life. He's in film school now, after all.

"Yeah, we're trying to help you out, chill buddy," Austin adds with a sympathetic smile upon his face, walking over and patting his best friend lightly on the back. "This movie will turn out just fine, it's not like your teacher's expecting you to hire professional actors, anyway." Dez jerks his shoulder, throwing Austin's hand off of his back.

"Hey, this is important to me – _okay_? If you can't understand that…" he raises his megaphone up to his lips and continues, speaking through it right in Austin's face, "Then you can just _go_." Ally snatches the megaphone from Dez's hand and turns it around to face him.

"We _will_," Ally retorts through it, completely finished dealing with this attitude of his. "Let's go, Austin," she says as she drops the megaphone onto the sandy ground and takes the blonde boy's hand. "We need to go face-chat with Trish now, anyway." Dez glares down at the short brunette.

"_I told you never to mention that name around me,_" Dez hisses through his teeth, his glower piercing through her. Ally folds her lips, trying to restrain herself from saying anything harsh that she might regret later. She knows how fragile Dez can be, but his behavior isn't helping. Austin frowns, greatly concerned about his friend. Dez's anger rarely ever gets to this level, and he never treated his friends this way before. It's already been several months since Trish had left – and he still hadn't spoken to her once.

"Dez…I thought you stopped talking to her cause you wanted her to move on and be happy," Austin speaks up, brows knitting together in worry. "But _now_…Now it just sounds like you're holding a grudge, man." Shaking his head, Austin grips Ally's hand as he turns and leads his girlfriend away, quickly. Dez stands there, isolated. He looks about him, wondering where everyone had run off to. The other actors and crew he had asked to take part in this film had snuck off, wanting to avoid conflict.

* * *

Dez drops onto his knees, quite melodramatically, and stares at the sandy ground in front of him in silence, with his mouth partially agape. "_What the heck is wrong with me?"_ he asks himself, covering his face with his hands. He drags his hands down, rubbing his face as he tries to pull himself together. He cannot handle the dearth of communication with her any longer. He _has_ to speak to Trish.

Dez fumbles through his pocket, trying to fish out his cell. Upon finding it, he pulls it out, and, with shaky hands, scrolls through his contact list, trying to find her name. "Damn it!" he hollers upon the realization that he had deleted her from his contacts not long after she had left. He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing himself to try and remember her number, to no avail. In this day and age, who remembers people's numbers, anyway?

His phone starts to play a tune, and he jumps, eyes opening wide at the sound. He looks at the caller ID, not recognizing the number. He decides to answer it, all the same. "Hello?" he asks the caller. As fate would have it, the girl he had wanted to call in the first place answers him.

"Sorry, wrong number," Trish says quickly, wanting to hang up as soon as she can. She wasn't trying to call Dez. Heck, she isn't sure as to why she even kept him as a contact. She thought she had tapped his sister's name, but apparently slipped up and dialed him instead.

"N-n-n-no, Trish, i-it's me – Dez," the red-head stutters, rejoicing internally from finally hearing her voice after such a long time. He allows himself to put on a small smile, not realizing how much he needed to hear from her until just now. Even with such few words, the sound of her voice became an oasis within this desert of a life he had been struggling through the past few months – and he really needed to quench his thirst.

"Right, well, I was trying to call Didi. Sorry," Trish explains further, growing uncomfortable. She had spent several months pushing any thoughts of Dez to the back of her mind in order for her to focus on her studies. It worked well enough, and she isn't about to give it all up just because of a slip-up on a phone call.

"Okay," he chokes out, saddened by the fact that she had not intended on calling him. However – she kept him as a contact. He could not even bring himself to keep her on _his_ list. _This could mean something, right?_, he asks himself mentally, but quickly shakes off the thought. He cannot do this to himself. Not now. He had to focus on his education and career – as did she.

Trish coughs, breaking the silence of the pause in their conversation. "_So…_"

"_So…_" Dez mimics, millions of thoughts going through his mind, but coming up with nothing that he actually wished to say to her.

"Goodbye, Dez," she states, point blank, then hangs up right after. Dez stays idle, still on his knees with his phone held up to his ear. He listens to the disconnect tone in silence, frozen and unsure of what to do with himself. _Goodbye_, he repeats her word in his mind. Just like the text he had sent her months ago – the last time they communicated. He swallows hard, trying to keep himself from breaking down.

The lanky young man picks himself up off of the sand and pockets his phone. He dusts himself off, picks up his film equipment, then heads over to his car. Upon loading the equipment into the trunk, Dez sucks in a deep breath, then opens up the door on the driver's side and hops in. His hand dives back into his pocket, in search of his car keys. He feels some other object in there, something card-like; something he does not recognize. Pulling it out carefully, his lips part slightly – astonished by his find. _Movie tickets_. Not just any movie tickets, however…These ones were to a showing of the Zaliens prequel. The one he had watched with _Trish_. Thus, the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Dez grasps the tickets, crumpling them in his hand as he slams his head onto the steering wheel in front of him, in agony. He winces, allowing himself to relieve the built-up tension within him with a release of a few tears. The few tears, however, brought friends. They had been pent up much too long, and he can no longer hold them back. His sobs grow louder, with him gasping for breath every now and again. He had no idea how much he needed this. Just to cry it out, cry all that damn tension out of his system – he needed it _badly_. But crying alone won't suffice, he figures, wiping his now-reddened eyes.

He pulls out his phone, once again, and checks his recent calls. He spots the last received call, then adds the number to his contact list. "Curly" he enters in the the contact info, remembering the fond nickname he had given the girl. He sniffles a bit, staring down at his phone.

Dez is in no way ready to reconnect with Trish – and heck, Austin was right. He _is_ angry with her. He's mad as _hell_. Yeah, it's selfish. He can't help but feel that way, try as he might. However, his care for her remains unceasing. _You have to stay distant_, he reminds himself. _You're doing this for her_.

* * *

"_You called him?_" Ally questions her curly-haired best friend over their video chat. She and Austin headed on over here to Sonic Boom, shortly after their little confrontation with Dez.

"I didn't _mean_ to…I just wanted to talk to Didi. I accidentally tapped his name on my contacts list, it's right above hers," Trish tries to explain herself.

"So…What did you guys talk about? You and Dez?" Austin asks, intrigued. Trish and Dez had not spoken in so long, and even Austin knew that there was just so much that needed to be said that had been left unsaid.

"Nothing…I just told him I dialed him on accident and that I just wanted to call his sister, then I said goodbye," she expounds. "Look, guys, me and Dez…We just don't talk anymore, okay? Let's leave the topic alone."

"You're the one who brought it up, Trish," Ally adds, raising a brow. "You _sure_ this isn't something you need to talk to us about?"

"Maybe some other time, Als," Trish replies. "Anyway…I'm going on a date tomorrow."

"_Please_ tell me the guy isn't Trent," Austin pleads her. Trish had been telling them both of her misadventures with the guy throughout the months. She had managed to start forgiving him, slowly but surely. The title of 'friend' may be donned on him someday. However, she stays cautious.

"Tch, _heck_ no. It's this guy from my project management class," she elaborates. "He asked me out to an amusement park. I thought I'd give the guy a shot, since he's one of the few guys I've met in class that doesn't have an ego the size of California," she chuckles, thinking back to all of the presumptuous pricks she had been introduced to and forced to work with within the last few months.

"Well, be careful, okay?" Ally advises her.

"Relax, Ally, it's a group-date thing. There will be other people with us, and I've known this guy for a while. He doesn't seem like a creep as far as I can tell," Trish reasons. "Anyway, what's going on with you guys?"

"Well, the performance at the Arsht Center you booked me for a few days ago went great! Did you catch the live broadcast?" Austin asks.

"Yeah, actually I did! It was good for the most part, but you really oughta work on your choreography. Your moves are getting a bit…_How should I put this?_ Played out? Over-done?" Trish criticizes the blonde.

"Huh…I never really thought much about that, but I guess you're right. I need to step it up, huh?" he agrees. "What do you think, Ally?"

"I say go for it! Just…Don't try anything crazy like you did with last month's concert. We don't want another fire," the chestnut-haired girl points out, shuddering as she thinks back to the incident. The three of them share a laugh, reminiscing in the memory of Austin's blunder.

"Anyway, I should get going, I needa get some chores done before it gets dark out," Trish grumbles. "Ugh. Man, I miss having my parents around for that kinda stuff."

"Aww, well, okay…Talk to you soon, then?" Ally asks, pouting slightly. Austin pouts along with her, the two of them begging in silence with their puppy-dog faces.

"Uh, of course! And stop with the pouting, it really isn't affective, y'know" Trish states, shaking her head and smiling amusedly.

"Bye Trish!" the two singers chorus, waving to their friend over the video chat.

"Bye guys, take care alri–?" Trish pauses, noticing a familiar face appearing behind them.

"Trish," the red-head utters, staring back at her through the screen, shifting his weight slightly.

"Dez," Trish nods, acknowledging him. Austin and Ally look back and forth between the two, who had their gazes fixed only on each other. All is silent for a moment, Trish and Dez's eyes unfaltering – their expressions unreadable.

"Bye," Trish states, breaking the quiet, as well as their eye-contact.

"Bye," Dez echoes her, eyes still not wavering from their hold on her. Trish disconnects from the video conference right after, in a hurry. Austin and Ally are left, staring at their freckled friend in awe. Until now, he refused to even glance at their long-distance friend over video chat. _What changed?_

Dez continues staring at the screen, blinking a few times as he gathers his thoughts. He then turns himself around and walks right out the door.

Austin and Ally look to each other, unsure of what to do or say on the matter. Austin promised Dez that he and Ally would not try to meddle in this. However, it had become increasingly difficult to just ignore the situation. The two singers hoped that their two friends would start communicating again, somehow.

Perhaps this moment they just experienced is a step in that direction?

Nothing is certain.

* * *

**I apologize for the delay! Writers block, oi. e_e**

**Man, this is so angsty and feelsy - _what am I doing?_**

**Too much drama, not enough comedic relief. Need more comedy, yes.**

**IS THERE HOPE?! YES? NO? MAYBE SO? POTATO?**

**Let me know what y'all think!**

**-AJ**


	5. Chapter 5 - Sweet & Sour

**Next chapter! WOOP!**

**Shoutout to lilystar0x, SakuraSpark, austlly394, WinterFairy7337, purplenutellaaaa, sexiboisgiggler, nothingtolose18, escritoradenovelastrez, & the guest for all your awesomesauce reviews!**

**Hope you like/hate/have some sorta strong feelings towards this chapter.**

**Warning: angstyness & some cursing (this fic is rated T, after all).  
**

* * *

"So then Dez actually jumped in front of the president and saved him from the giant flying sneaker. He got a medal for it, too," Trish explains, reminiscing about past adventures she had with her three best friends. She lets out a light chuckle at the image of Dez diving towards the sneaker floating through her mind. Her smile drops for a moment, suddenly remembering that she had promised herself that she would lock away any thoughts of the auburn-haired goofball. _The focus right now is Kye_, she reminds herself, smiling back at her date. She and Kye had broken off from the rest of their group, once Trish felt safe enough with the guy to hang out with him alone.

"That's so cool! You guys actually got to meet the president of the United States? And did you get busted for scratching his limo?" the fairly short young man asks her, a look of childlike awe upon his face. Trish sighs in response.

"Yeah, he knew it was me. Let me off with a warning, though. But hey, I got pictures of myself in the president's limo! It was worth it," she says smugly, flipping through the photo gallery on her phone, showing him the evidence. His eyes light up as he looks through the photos with her.

"Y-you look really pretty," Kye responds, pointing to one of the pictures that they had come across – a tinge of redness upon his face. "Well, n-not that you don't always look pretty, cause…Cause y-you do, and I uhm…I…" the boy stutters, looking down at his hands as he tries to gather his words. Trish smirks, patting him gently on the back.

"Deep breaths, Kye," she laughs, attempting to comfort the apprehensive boy. "And thank you – I appreciate that," she adds, grabbing her smoothie and taking a sip. Kye smiles back at her shyly, taking a sip from his own drink.

"So, Trish…I don't mean to pry or anything, but uhm…You do talk a lot about that one friend of yours. Dez? _Were you two ever…?_" Kye trails off, suddenly feeling awkward about asking as he watches Trish's expression change. "N-never mind…Sorry, I didn't know it was a t-touchy subject," he apologizes, looking back down at his hands. Trish shakes her head dismissively.

"It's fine. We were never actually a thing, but…" Trish bites her lip, wondering what to say to him. She wanted to avoid the subject, but she could not help herself from revealing to Kye the many adventures she had with her freckle-faced friend. That is, if they _are_ still friends. " –Hey, you wanna do another round on the Whirlwind?" she asks him, changing the subject and gesturing to the nearby roller coaster.

"But, of course, Miss De La Rosa," he responds, getting up onto his feet and tossing his empty cup away into the nearest trash can. "Are you finished with yours?" he asks her, pointing at her smoothie cup. Trish nods, and the young man recycles hers, as well. He then lends her his elbow to escort her over to the coaster. Trish hops onto her feet and takes his arm – quite delighted that he had turned out to be such a gentleman on their date.

"Now you _have to_ tell me about your adventures back in Laos," Trish states, as they walk over to the line. "You said you came here when you were fifteen, right?" Kye nods.

"Well, they certainly aren't as exciting as the ones you and your friends went through, I'll be honest. Oh! There was this one time my friends and I got chased by this nest of giant hornets. That was _terrifying_," Kye shivers at the memory. Trish raises a brow.

"A buncha bugs? How big we talkin'?" she asks, her grip still on his arm.

"Well, most of them were about two or so inches long, but some were about the size of my thumb! " he elaborates, sticking up his thumb to help her better visualize. "They have neurotoxins in their stings, too. Pretty nasty."

"Wow. I really hope I never come across any of those," Trish shudders, scooting up with Kye as the line moves forward. She leans her head on his shoulder, and following this, he rests his on her head. "I had fun today, Kye. I _really_ needed this – you have no idea. Thank you," Trish expresses her gratitude.

"Thank _you_ for allowing me to take you here. I had a lot of fun talking to you. You're an awesome person to get to know," Kye compliments, his face reddening once again.

_Why can't it be this easy with most guys?_ Trish asks herself. No hidden feelings, no beating-around-the-bush. Kye's been so direct with her. She needed more of that in her life.

"_Well, well, well_…Small world, ain't it?" a taller male interrupts from behind them.

"_Trent?!_ What the heck are you doing here?" Trish shoots back at him, releasing Kye's arm and spinning herself around to face him. "You aren't stalking me, are you?" she crosses her arms and tightens her lips, awaiting his response.

"Please, Trish. I enjoy amusement parks – doesn't everybody?" the cocky male responds, popping his collar. Kye looks at him questioningly, wondering how the two of them know each other. Trish catches the look of confusion upon Kye's face and quickly introduces her 'frenemy'.

"Trent, Kye. Kye, Trent," she states quickly, gesturing at the both of them. "Trent's my…Well, he's my ex. And he's a terrible person," she continues, chuckling a little at Trent's gaping reaction from her words.

"It's true, I really am," he adds, deciding to go along with it – putting a hand onto his chest. "I'm trying my best to make up for it."

"Which is why we're working on becoming friends," Trish explains further. "But, if you ask me, he's not trying hard enough. Not a single expensive gift," she jokes. Trent rolls his eyes.

"So, you're Trish's date?" he asks shorter fella. Kye nods, putting on a polite smile for Trish's sort-of-friend.

"That's correct," he states softly. "She's been a fantastic date, too."

"_Awww_, aren't you sweet? Thank you–" Trish starts, only to be interrupted by the ringing of her cellphone. She pulls it out of her pocket and checks the caller ID, already assuming who it is, however, based upon the ringtone. "_Dez,_" she utters silently to herself. Trent overhears.

"You should take it," he states, all the humor and cockiness drained from his voice. Trish looks back up at him, then over to Kye. She lets her phone continue ringing until it ceases, then pockets it. Trent frowns at her and sighs, "Trish, you have to talk to Dez eventually. He's not going to stop calling you."

"It's like the fifth time he tried to call me today – can't he take a hint? I don't want to talk to him!" she growls, gripping her head in her hands. Kye tilts his head, looking concerned.

"Trish, if this Dez is your friend, then I think it's best that you answer him. He could be in trouble and might need your help or something," Kye offers, cupping his hands together.

"Well, then he can go to Austin or Ally – why is he calling _me_? I'm on the other side of the country!" Trish exclaims, releasing the grip she had on her head. Kye shrugs.

"Maybe he already has? Maybe you're the only one that can help him?" he pauses, then puts on a bashful smile, once again. "Or maybe he misses you? I know _I_ would if I were him," Kye appends to his argument. Trish shakes her head, smirking slightly at his flattering comment. She looks down at her shoes in contemplation.

"Should I call him back?" she asks, looking back up at the two boys accompanying her.

"Yes!" the two young men state in unison.

"Oh, _fine_," Trish surrenders, pulling her phone out of her pocket and walking out of line to make the call.

* * *

"Trish!" an effeminate voice answers Trish's call. "_It's about time_. I tried to call you, like, a bajillion times. Why didn't you answer?"

"_Didi?_ Why are you calling me from Dez's phone?" Trish questions the girl.

"I lost my phone, and my parents won't get me a new one until I can pay for it. Dez is home for the weekend, so I thought I'd use his," Didi explains. "So why didn't you answer Dez's phone? Are you not talking to him? Come to think of it…You haven't been talking to my brother much lately, huh?" the orange-haired girl fires off her inquiries.

"That's not really something I wanna talk about right now, Didi. How are you?" Trish asks, deviating from the subject of Dez.

"_Trish…_" Didi starts, wanting to get to the bottom of the situation. Her brother had not been around as much since he had started going to the film school in Tallahassee – obviously commuting daily would be out of the question, what with the school being a seven-hour drive from Miami. He would try his best to visit every weekend, however; to see his family, and to keep in touch with Austin and Ally. This happens to be one of those weekends.

Didi continues, surrendering to Trish's subject change, "I'm doing okay. It's my senior year, so I guess I'm kinda stressed out. Trying to decide what schools I want to go to. I'm kinda lost."

"Heh…Lost, huh? Runs in the family, doesn't it?" Trish jokes, letting out a half-hearted laugh. She's reminded of all of those career trials Dez had dragged her along with when trying to figure out what he had wanted to do.

"I thought you didn't want to talk about Dez," Didi teases, smirking slyly – not that Trish could see. Before Trish could tell Didi to wipe that smirk that she had assumed was there off of her face, another voice interrupts the conversation.

"Who doesn't want to talk about me?" Dez asks softly, walking into his room cautiously – surprised to find his sister in there. Didi scarcely ever entered his room, always complaining about the mess and claiming that it smelled funny. _What is she up to?_ he wonders. They had occasionally played pranks on each other as kids, but it's been a while since shots have been fired from either side.

He notices his cellphone in his sister's possession and questions her once more, "Who're you talking to, Didi?" He really did not mind her using his phone without asking, as he knows she had lost hers. However, the fact that his name was mentioned sparked his curiosity. Is his sister missing him in his absence and wanting them to relive a bit of their childhood with another prank? _Possibly_, he ponders, putting on a small smile.

"It's…It's Trish," Didi states honestly. She bites her lip, watching as her brother's cheerful demeanor suddenly collapses, leaving a very broken individual standing before her. "I-I lost my phone, and I just…I wanted to call her," she explains, suddenly apprehensive. She isn't quite sure what she had done wrong. _This has something to do with Trish_, she comprehends from her brother's reaction. She had noticed that anytime he would visit, Trish's name was never even brought up. This was strange coming from her brother. He used to talk about the feisty girl endlessly. When Trish left for L.A., he had acted like she never existed in his life at all. _They were so close_, Didi remembers. _What happened?_

"You don't need to explain, Deeds," Dez comments, reassuring her with a small smile – the damaged look that had taken over him still present. "I get it."

"Dez…What's going on between you two?" Didi inquires. "Did something happen?" she asks as she covertly hits the speakerphone button on his cell, hoping that she could get the two of them to speak to one another.

"Didi, nothing happened, okay. It's not important," Dez clarifies to her.

"_Of course it's important, you jerk_!" Trish's voice suddenly shrieks out from the speaker, causing Dez to jolt in shock. "How _dare _you," she threatens.

"Trish–," Dez begins, trying to gather himself after having a near-heart attack. Didi walks closer to him, phone in hand – determined to resolve this dispute somehow.

"Dez, I've _had it_ with your bullshit!" Trish spits into the receiver of her phone. Trent and Kye watch her yell into her cell from a safe distance, concerned about her sudden outburst. "What the hell is wrong with you?! What the f–_What did I do_?" she continues in a softer, yet unyielding, tone – now wary of the children running about nearby.

"Y-you didn't…N-no…_Trish_," Dez stammers, wiping his hands down his face as he attempts to construct a proper sentence. He shakes, becoming weaker and weaker with every word Trish spoke to him. Didi continues holding up the phone, having a hard time seeing her brother this way.

"I'm not sorry I left, Dez. I'll n-never be sorry," she chokes out, her voice losing momentum and her eyes glazing over as she tries her best to keep it together. The two young men accompanying her rush over to her side, each grabbing hold of a shoulder in order to support her. Kye gently rubs her back, unsure of what to say or do. Trent looks about himself, trying to figure out a way to calm her down. "I'm not sorry," she repeats, in a hoarse whisper, a few teardrops trailing down her flushed cheeks.

That did it. "You're never sorry, _are you_?" Dez shoots back, strength suddenly returning to his voice as he's hit with something of an adrenaline rush. "You've _never_ been sorry when it came to me. _NEVER_," he accuses, unsure of where this precipitous fury within him had come from. Rage consumes him whole, and although one side of himself is begging him to stop before he actually hurts her, the other part keeps on going. "You think this has been _easy_ for me? I'm allowed to be upset, Trish. How the _hell_ do you expect me to just be okay with all this? I've been trying to do us both a favor here by not talking to you, okay? You need to just forget about me and move on, cause clearly you didn't care enough to even talk to me before you decided to leave," he continues ranting.

"Dez, don't you start–," Trish states weakly, only to be cut off.

"–_SHUT UP!_" the irate young man lashes out in a high-pitched cry, snatching the phone out of his sister's hand so that he could better voice his anger. "Just _shut up_, Trish," he hisses into the receiver, through clenched teeth. He starts to shake, taking in heavy breathes – overwhelmed by his own ire. Trish goes silent, unable to find her voice as his words had knocked the wind out of her. Even when he was upset with her in the past, Dez had never yelled at her this way before. It's not in his nature to do so.

Even Didi is shaken up by the outburst; the anger her brother had just displayed is a rare sight with the normally happy-go-lucky quality of his. She takes the phone from her brother's shaky hand, hearing the slightest whimper escape from the speaker. Now, Didi knows Trish isn't one to cry in front of others. Dez knows that all too well. In fact, hearing that soft whimper after exerting all of his energy into his tirade is enough to send the lanky young man collapsing onto the ground.

"Dez!" Didi exclaims as she watches him crumble. "Trish, hun, I'll talk to you later. I think Dez just fainted. Hang in there, okay? I'll call you back," Didi quickly articulates into the phone. She hangs up before Trish can say another word – not that she could.

"_Trish?_" Kye squeezes the shaken girl's arm gently, his face worry-ridden. Completely confused as to what had just happened, he is unsure of what to do next. Her face seemingly frozen, except for the light streams of tears gliding down her cheeks, shows no sign of recovery. She stands there, mouth slightly agape, still holding her phone up to her ear as the disconnect tone continues to play. Kye cautiously takes the phone from her hand. He then guides her hand down to relax at her side. With the phone still in grasp, he wraps his arms around the girl. Trent does the same, from the other side of her, still in shock from seeing Trish so distressed. Heck, the hurt on her face she had when she confronted him for using her years ago paled in comparison to the look she's wearing now.

Trish's arms stay at her side for a minute or so, before giving in to the group hug. As she wraps her arms around her two new friends, she breaks. Light sobs escape her, try as she might to hold them in. She sucks air in through her nose, then pushes the two away, collecting herself. "Enough," she sates firmly, sniffling just slightly. "This never happened. Let's get on that roller coaster, shall we?" she asserts, pulling a tissue out of her pocket and wiping her eyes . "May I have my phone back, Kye?" she asks the short male, holding her hand out. Kye obliges, handing it over. She stuffs it into her pocket, and without another word, heads back into line.

_I won't let him get to me_, Trish assures herself. _He's right about one thing, though. I should just forget about __him and move on._

* * *

**Eurgh. All the angst. Sorry if the characters seemed too OOC, especially Dez.**

**So uh. Dez fainted. Don't think he's used to getting that angry, eheh.**

**Wonder how he's gonna react to what he had just done once he comes to! o:**

**Let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Empathy & Emergency

**Hey, look! An update! o:**

**Thanks again to all my awesome reviewers for your lovely commentary! And thank you for your patience, as well. c:**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

"Dez…?" a familiar and gentle voice flutters into the ears of the young filmmaker. He shifts a bit, trying to pull himself back into consciousness. "Dez, are you okay?" the voice asks. Dez opens his eyes to his younger sister, hovering above him with a look of worry. He sits himself up, slowly and steadily, collecting himself after the sudden collapse.

"_What happened_?" he asked, looking up at Didi with light-sensitive, squinting eyes.

"You passed out," she responds plainly, shrugging. This isn't a highly unusual thing coming from her brother. His emotions – be it fear, surprise, excitement, or anger – can get the best of him from time to time. There's only so much that his feeble body can take. "You were yelling at Trish over the phone something fierce, and then you fainted."

"Oh," Dez replies, staring up at her with guilt-ridden eyes, recollecting the whole ordeal bit by bit. He captures his head in his hands and cradles it, replaying the scene in his mind over and over. He cannot remember the last time he had spoken so harshly to anyone. And to _Trish_, of all people. He bites down hard on his lower lip, furious – at himself, this time. He sits like this for about a minute or so before his sister speaks up.

"Dez?" she asks again, worried at his lack of response.

"I screwed up, Didi," he states, lifting his head from his hands, lips reddened from biting, to look her in the eyes. "_Why didn't you stop me?_" he accuses her, eyes now glazed over.

"You're blaming _me_ for this, now? Dez, this is _your _mess," Didi snaps at him.

"_I know, I know…_" he responds, letting out a shaky sigh. "I just thought I'd feel better if I blamed you."

"Yeah? And did it work?"

"No," he groans, shaking his head and looking down as he pulls his knees closer to his body. He hugs onto them for support. "And you're right. This is _my_ mess. _I _have to clean it up."

"I've been telling him to clean his room for ages, Didi, how'd you get him to agree?" their mother asks jokingly as she stops outside the door to Dez's room. She had clearly missed the rest of the conversation.

"Mom, this isn't about his room," Didi informs her mother, turning to face her while fidgeting nervously.

"Oh…Well does this involve the cops or any other authorities?" Donna asks her children, shifting her eyes back and forth between them warily.

"No, mom," Dez says, still hugging his knees and keeping his gaze down at the floor in front of him. Donna frowns at the boy. Sure, she is quite a busy woman, but knows that she cannot just abandon her son in his time of need.

"Honey…Is there _anything_ I can do? Do you need to talk?" she offers, fixating her gaze on her son curled up on the floor.

"Don't worry, mom, I'm handling this," Didi reassures her mother. "I'll…Let you know if I need any help." Donna nods, giving Dez one more look of concern before heading off on her way to work. Didi turns back around to her brother.

"We should call Trish back, Dez. You need to apologize to her," Didi demands, swiping his cellphone off of the table she had left it on and holding it out to him.

"What's the point?" Dez asks her stubbornly, swatting the phone away. "She's _never_ going to forgive me after that, Didi." He looks up at her, his eyes weak, reddened, and watery. "I screwed up. _Big time._"

"So you keep saying," Didi crosses her arms. "Are you just going to give up, then? Dez, this isn't like the time you got Austin fired for messing up Kira's track…Or the time you and Austin destroyed Ally's cupcakes for her fundraiser. _Both of which you got away with, need I remind you_. You hurt Trish; one of your _best friends_. You're not getting away with that, Dez. You can't just sit here and do nothing about it. _Fix this!_" she demands, kneeling down beside her elder brother, shoving the phone in front of his face. Dez smirks slightly at his sister, glad for once that she is such a busybody. He takes the phone from her and pockets it.

"I know you're right, Didi. But…I have to give it time. If I call her now, we're just going to keep yelling at each other. I think we both need some time to cool down." He lets go of his knees and picks himself up off of the floor. "How's about I take you out for some fro-yo, Deeds?" he asks, suddenly sounding perky.

"Alright…But this conversation isn't over," she warns him, holding her index finger out in front of her. She drops her hand and wraps her arms around him in a comforting hug. "Just…Please tell me everything's going be okay, _okay?_ I'm worried about you, Weirdo. You _and_ my future sister-in-law."

Dez chuckles at her use of his old nickname that she had given him. He decides not to respond to the sister-in-law comment however, as he was quite taken aback by it. He returns the hug, resting his chin atop her head. "It's gonna be okay."

* * *

"Trish, I can't stop thinking about you and Dez…Are you ever gonna talk to him again?" Trent asks the curly-haired girl working away at her desk.

"Trent, I have _finals_ to study for. You wanna talk about this _now_?" she sends a glare his way before redirecting her attention back down at the books in front of her. It has been a month or so since her fight over the phone with Dez, and she had attempted to shove any thoughts of him into the dark corners of her mind where they could be forgotten. However, this proved to be increasingly difficult as Trent, and Kye, would never cease mentioning his name.

"I think you two are being ridiculous, Trish. You're throwing away something real special, y'know."

"Why do you care so much, Trent? Why don't _you_ go be friends with him," she sasses, flipping through the pages of her textbook. Why Trent had been so involved in her relationships, she had no idea. He ceased flirting with her after a little while and had showed no interest in wanting to be anything more than friends with her. He never asked her about booking him for any gigs. In fact, he never really asked her for any favors for himself other than hanging out. _What exactly does he wish to gain from all of this? _Trish wonders.

"I care about _you_, Trish," Trent responds with a soft voice. Trish frowns, almost wanting to believe that he's just playing her again like he had done before so that she could have a reason to not listen to him. However, his tone of voice is genuine. "Look, I just want to help make things right. Sure, it's partly 'cause I feel bad for hurting you–"

"–Trent, you've already redeemed yourself. You don't have to prove anything to me," Trish cuts in.

"I know I don't. You've made that clear. But I still can't stand to see you upset, okay? I consider you a friend, whether or not you consider _me_ one. And honestly, you're the only one I've got right now. So _yeah_, I care," he explains further, clasping his hands together as he sits upon her bed. Trish folds her lips and turns around in her wheeled desk chair to face him.

"I appreciate that, Trent. _I do_," she says softly, quite touched by his words. "And I get that you're trying to be a good friend and all, but…I can't live in the past. I have to focus on my studies, and my future. Dez will only make me feel worse about it. I don't want to feel bad about pursuing my goals, okay? I'm sick of feeling guilty over this. I shouldn't. _I'm not sorry._"

"You keep saying you're not sorry, but every time you say it, you sound like you're apologizing, Trish. There's so much more to all this than you pursuing your goals," Trent explains to her, unclasping his hands and setting them down on either side of him on the bed. "I don't think Dez actually wants to stop you from getting where you want to in life…I think he just feels like you completely shoved him out of the picture when you decided to come here – that you didn't even think about him."

"Well, this isn't about _him_. I left Austin and Ally, too, but they aren't–," she starts to retort.

"–Yeah, well Austin and Ally clearly have a different relationship with you than Dez does…Or _did_," Trent adds. Trish puts a look of confusion on her face as a front, but in her mind, she understands exactly what he is saying. "From what I understand, hearing you out about all a this – it sounds like you and Dez…Y'know…Got somethin' _else_ going on."

"Pfft, whaaaat?" she lets out, trying to play innocent. She can tell by the look on Trent's face that he's not buying it. With the perfect lie in mind, she opens her mouth to speak, only to be stopped by Trent's intense eyes waiting on her for some ounce of truth. "You're right," she agrees. "There _is _something else. I don't really know _what_ that something is. Maybe it comes from being frenemies, or whatever the hell you wanna call it. There's definitely something more to us. But he _was_ my friend, and friends have to be supportive of each other."

There is complete silence as the two ruminate over the situation. Trish does not desire to wallow in these thoughts much longer, as she has a paper to write for class. She stops to let out a dry, sarcastic laugh, which makes Trent 'wake up' out of his meditative trance.

"He's such a hypocrite, y'know," Trish says, twirling a loose curl that had fallen in front of her face with her fingers. "When Ally got accepted into MUNY, Dez was the one that convinced me and Austin to be supportive of her and let her go. What _– I don't get the same respect?_"

"It's cause he's not in _love_ with Ally, Trish," Trent answers her rhetorical question bluntly. Trish freezes, dropping her hand and looking straight at him with widened eyes.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she utters, her mouth left slightly agape when she pauses, trying to wrap her head around what Trent had just said. "Are you saying he's in _love_ with me?"

"That's _exactly_ what I'm saying, Trish."

"Well, that's a load of bull."

"Trish…I get that him wanting you to stay isn't love, its selfishness. But he never actually voiced that, did he? Instead, he's been cutting you out of his life. Maybe that's how he copes? Try to think about it in his perspective…He could be keeping you at arm's length because he thinks it'll be easier to get over you. Because he doesn't _want_ to be unhappy that you're out here pursuing your dreams. He _wants_ to be happy for you. It could be that he's trying to be supportive, and the only way he can do that is by avoiding you, maybe?"

"Well, that's stupid," Trish scoffs, crossing her arms. "Why the heck would he do that? Why can't he just be upfront with me?"

"Because he doesn't want you to feel guilty that you left him?" Trent shrugs. "Maybe he knows that you have stronger feelings for him than you're letting on? And is hoping that you would get over him too, so that you could focus on your studies?"

"Ew, no!" Trish contorts her face in disgust. Trent rolls his eyes at her immediate reaction.

"Trish, c'mon. I'm not saying you're in love with the guy, but you definitely care about him and what he has to say. You wouldnt've cried after that phone call if you didn't." Trish grits her teeth, clenching her fists as anger is her instant response to him bringing that up.

"Well, if he '_loves'_ me so damn much – why the heck would he care that I didn't '_consult_' him before I made the decision to come here, huh? I got into _UCLA_. He should be _happy_ for me, Trent!" she yells out.

"And I'm sure he is," Trent replies, raising his hands up in surrender, and to try and get her to quiet down a bit. "I just think he would've liked you to talk about it with him before, y'know? So that he could…I dunno…Feel like you care about what he thinks? I doubt he woulda stopped you, honestly."

"I'm not the bad guy here, Trent," Trish inputs.

"No, you're not. Neither of you are at fault here, but you two really needa settle this. You've got too good of a friendship to just throw out." Trish folds her lips again, looking away in thought.

"You're right. I know you're right. But after the last call, I really doubt he'd want to talk to me again. You shoulda heard how angry he sounded." She shifts her gaze to the floor, feeling something in her sinking at the memory.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that…"

"Whaddaya mean?" she looks back up at him, tilting her head curiously.

"Hey, I wasn't just pulling everything I said outta my ass. I _know_. I talked to him the other day and he explained the whole damn thing to me. I'm not _that_ intuitive," Trent smirks, winking at her. He watches as Trish's expression morphs from _'little lost puppy'_ to _'hell hound'_.

"You did _WHAT _now?!" she shrieks. "You called him behind my back?! How'd you even get his number?"

"Trish, _please_, you keep leaving your phone out where I can find it and you never even deleted him from your contacts. Now that _alone_ tells me you still want him in your life," he chuckles uneasily, trying to not seem as afraid as he really is.

"Ugh!" Trish cries out, sending a few pillows flying his way. "Why the heck would you do that to me? What did you even tell him, anyway?"

"I just told him I wanted to hear him out, get his side of the story 'cause I've only been hearing yours. And yeah, his thought processes are way outta whack, but I could sorta see where he's coming from," Trent explains, catching the pillows and setting them aside. "I also called him again early this morning. He's coming over."

"_WHAT?!_" Trish jumps out of her seat and onto her feet.

"Yeah…I kinda-sorta…Might've told him that there was an emergency…That you've gone missing and that I needed his help finding you," Trent adds rapidly, shifting his eyes from side-to-side nervously. Trish bites down on her lower lip, trying to restrain herself from clawing Trent's eyes out of their sockets.

"Why…Would you…_Do_ that?" she asks slowly and breathily through her clenched teeth, her eyes flooded with fury as she glares down at him. He simply shrugs meekly in fright as she approaches him. She grabs a fistful of his shirt and pulls him closer. "_WHY?!_" she demands.

"I–," Trent starts, only to be cut off by rapid knocking on the door. Trish releases him and heads on over. She takes a deep breath and opens it to reveal the young man they had been discussing.

"Dez," she whispers, looking up at him – having no idea of what to expect.

"Trish…" Dez mutters weakly under his breath, shocked to see her standing there before him. He's sweating – panting, as if he had been running the whole way here from the airport. "…You're…You're okay."

"_Of course_ I'm okay, you doof. Trent was just trying to get you to–," the rest of her words are muffled as the tall red-head wraps his arms around her neck and pulls her head to his chest. Try as she might to fight the urge, she cannot help but give into the embrace. Hell, she _needed_ it.

Trent smiles at the sight, maneuvering around them and slipping out the door to give them some privacy.

* * *

**Dez, what the **_**what**_**?! You flew all the way out to L.A. without even informing anyone else. Not even telling them about the fact that Trish might be missing. Like her **_**parents**_**, perhaps? **_**Do you even think?**_

**Nope. Just hopped onto the plane and went without any second thoughts, yup. That's what you did.**

**Tsk. Dez thinks not with his mind but with his…Heart? Goat? I dunno, guys, I'm wiped. G'night!**

**-AJ**


	7. Chapter 7 - Reunions & Restitution

**Hey guys! I apologize for the delay in updating. Had been sort of stuck on what to write, but I hope this will suffice! I'm still a in a bit of a rut, so I apologize in advanced if this chapter isn't up-to-par. ^^;  
**

* * *

"Dez…You can let go now," Trish says, pulling her head away from the red-head's chest. Her hands had been at her sides for about a minute or so, as the ginger continues to latch onto her with his face buried in the curly locks atop her head. He does not seem ready to let go just yet, as her words only cause him to grip her tighter. Trish finds her face shoved right back into his chest.

"Can't…Breathe…" her muffled voice escapes.

"Just a few more seconds," Dez pleads into her hair.

"Dez, I _will_ hurt you," she retorts, growing impatient.

"No, you won't," he smirks, exhaling sharply through his nose. "You won't." Words spoken too soon, as he shrieks shrilly at the sudden pain shooting up his leg after the girl's foot slams down on top of his. He pulls away, grabbing his injured foot and hopping up and down on the other in pain. "_Trish_!"

"Don't _ever _test me." Her voice suddenly cold, Dez rests his foot on the floor and shrinks back in fear.

"S-Sorry. I-I just…I was _worried_, Trish," he explains, building up enough courage to approach her slowly and take her hands in his. He rubs the back of her hands with his thumbs gently, in an attempt to calm her down. His care for her certainly takes precedence over his fear of her. Trish enjoys the relaxing sensation for a few moments until her mind catches up with her. She pulls her hands away, and folds her arms across her chest.

"Well, I'm _fine_, you doof. You can go now," she scoffs, turning around swiftly, her hair slapping him across the face as she does so. She makes her way to her desk chair, sits down, and grabs her textbook, shunning him by burying her face into a random chapter.

Dez watches her with a gentle smile, amused by her defensive behavior. He grabs a nearby chair, setting it down backwards beside Trish. He takes a seat on it, leaning up against the backrest, his arms folded and resting on the top. He sets his head down on his arms and continues to watch her as she pretends to read. It's clear that she's not truly paying attention to the textbook.

"Dez, go away."

"Hey, what're you doing hanging out with Trent?" he asks, ignoring her command.

"Austin and Ally didn't tell you? We've gotten pretty close. He's a lot better of a friend than you are." She glances over at Dez, hoping to see at least the slightest bit of anger in his eyes, unsure of why she even wants that. It is not present, however. He continues to smile.

"Trish, he wouldn't've called _me_ over here if he's a better friend than I am, c'mon." He shakes his head at her, entertained by her attempt to get a rise out of him. She couldn't be more obvious. "You two are friends now, huh? That's good." An awkward, heavy silence fills the room, with the two of them now barely looking at one another, trying to find words to fill the emptiness.

"I'm dating this guy named Kye," Trish adds after a bit, breaking the silence. "He's really sweet." Dez's smile does not fade.

"I'm happy for you."

"_Liar._"

"_I am_, Trish," he repeats, setting a gentle hand on her right shoulder. "Look, I rushed all the way out here 'cause I thought something _horrible_ happened to you." His voice takes a serious turn, "I'm just…So glad you're okay." Trish slams her book shut, causing Dez to flinch a bit, and sets it back on her desk – guilt slowly creeping up into her. Her harsh behavior towards him seemed unnecessary and uncalled for. Her anger always had fought its way to the forefront of her mind, however. She cannot help it. She's _still _furious at him.

"I hate you," Trish mutters, looking down at her cupped hands in her lap.

Dez tugs at her shoulder, pulling her towards him, and lands a tender kiss on the side of her head. "I'm fine with that," he whispers to her as he pulls away. She shoves him.

"Ugh! Just _leave_, Dez. I don't need this right now. I have finals to study for." She grabs her textbook, once again.

"Well, you're doing it wrong."

"_What?_" She turns to him, her brows knitting together in confusion.

"Studying. You're doing it wrong." He lifts himself up from his chair and walks back out into the hallway. He lugs in his small, bright-orange wheeled suitcase and zips open the small pouch at the top, pulling out a few notecards. He then sets them down upon her desk. "Flashcards. They're a lot more helpful than trying to memorize chapters word-for-word. Uh, _duh_." He rolls his eyes and grins, watching her nostrils flare, her teeth clench, and her eyebrows push together in vexation as she huffs. _Adorable_, he thinks, tilting his head as he continues to stare at her with that goofy smile of his.

"Stop looking at me like that, you…You _freak_!" she spits out, standing up from her chair swiftly, causing it to fall over. Even in anger, she can't do worse than that. Her attempt at upsetting him is ineffective, as his cheerful appearance goes undeterred.

"You're angry at me, I get it," Dez nods, chuckling as he leans down and pulls her back into his arms. "I get it. It's okay." She gives in, letting him do so without retaliation.

"Why aren't you mad at _me?_" she asks him, her voice softening.

"Why do you _want_ me mad at you?" he inquires, resting his chin on top of her head. Trish goes quiet, not exactly sure how she should answer that. She just did not want to be the only one frustrated with the whole situation. So much has happened between the two of them, and now he's acting like nothing had. They stay in the one-sided embrace for a little while until Dez pulls away and breaks the silence.

"I'm so happy you're okay. Y'know, the whole way here I was just yelling at myself, thinking it was my fault that you went missing," he explains, gripping her by the shoulders.

"You yelled at yourself out loud the whole way here? _On the plane?_" Trish asks, a bemused expression upon her face.

"Yeah. The stewardess was really rude about it, too. She kept interrupting, telling me to be quiet. Can you _believe_ that?" Dez scoffs, dropping his hands from her shoulders. Trish chuckles, smiling for the first time in what seemed like forever.

"Whack-a-Doodle."

"What did I do?" Dez looks at her with curious eyes, noticing her smile. It can be hard to tell at times with Trish, whether or not her smile means that she's in a good mood or that she's plotting something sinister. He really hopes that it's the former. She shakes her head.

"I'm sorry," Trish lets out quietly, her line of sight finding its way to the floor. Dez frowns, quite shocked by the sudden apology. That's not what he came here for.

"Don't," he shakes his head. "You don't have to apologize to me, Trish," he continues, knowing just how rare and valuable her apologies to him are.

"But you were right, I should've talked to you about it…I don't know…I talked to Ally, and she said it's up to me and that her, Austin, and you shouldn't have a say."

"Ally told you not to talk to me about going here?"

"Or to Austin."

"I see."

"But it's not her fault either. _I _made that decision. I didn't think you'd be _that_ upset, Austin was supportive about it. And you _know_ how much he depends on me as a manager. _But you..._" she trails off, looking up at her freckled friend's saddened eyes.

"You don't think I need you, too?" Dez takes her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "I can't focus on anything without you there to yell at me to pay attention. Austin and Ally are terrible at keeping me in line, you _know_ that, Trish." He sighs, and continues, "It's like I can't even get inspired anymore. And I don't have anyone to bounce ideas off of. Austin and Ally don't come up with as great stuff as you do. They may be great at making songs, but they have absolutely _no_ vision when it comes to film."

"So what're you saying? I'm the Ally to your Austin or something?" Trish lets out a laugh.

"Something like that," Dez shrugs. "But _I _wanna be Ally." Trish rolls her eyes.

"Whatever, bozo. Besides, if you'd just video chat with me, we could still do all that."

"Yeah…I know. I've been stupid." He lets out a somewhat shaky breath.

"Uh, yeah. You have," she remarks, crossing her arms. He tightens his lips at her, trying to keep his patience.

"Well–"

Before Dez could argue, Kye enters through the door. "Hey, Trish! I went and got you some pizza from that place–" He stops, looking up at the tall red-head that turned towards him as he entered.

"Hi, uhm…I didn't know Trish was expecting anyone except for Trent today," he states cautiously, looking Dez up and down. "You must be Dez," he infers from the vague visual descriptions Trish had given him in the past.

"Yeah. That's me," Dez nods, holding his hand out for a handshake, raising a brow at him. "Are you Kye?"

Kye shakes his hand tentatively. "Yes," he nods, pulling back his hand. He looks over at Trish, then back up at Dez. "Erm…I'm not interrupting anything, am I? Sh-should I go?"

"No, Kye. You stay," Trish orders him, gesturing to her bed, telling him to have a seat. "Dez is just here 'cause Trent invited him over." Kye gives her a nod, sets the pizza box down on a nearby table, and sits upon her bed.

"I'm not gonna lie, guys, this is pretty awkward," Kye comments.

"Trish's been talking about the whole thing, hasn't she?" Dez asks him.

"She talks a lot about you."

"_Does she, now?_" he turns to the girl, smirking at her cockily. She looks away. "So…You're her boyfriend, right?" Dez turns his attention back to Kye..

"Wh-what?" Kye looks to Trish in confusion. "I _am_?"

"Dez, I said I've been dating him. I didn't say we're official or anything," Trish sighs.

"So you _were_ just trying to make me mad, then." Dez shakes his head at her, pouting a little.

"Shut up, Freckles," she glares at him.

"I miss you saying that to me." Dez gives her a wink, then takes a seat next to Kye. "What else has she said about me?" he asks the shorter male.

"That you guys, and your friends Austin and Ally, had a lot of adventures together. And that you, her, and Austin are fans of the Zaliens franchise. Oh! And…And that you like mushrooms. Also that–"

"–That's enough, Kye," Trish commands, picking her fallen chair up off of the ground and sitting in it.

"I…I'm going to head out. You two really should…Catch up," Kye tells Trish. He then turns to Dez, "Also…Don't think that I'm not going to do anything if you make her cry again, Dez." Trish raises her brows at him. Kye is not usually one to make threats, but seeing her in the state she was that day really set something off in him.

"I'll talk to you later, Kye," she tells him as he waves goodbye and heads out the door.

"He seems like a great guy," Dez remarks. "_Wait_...I made you cry?" he asks with a look of concern upon his face, trying to recall what he heard from their last phone call.

"You want some pizza?" Trish asks, changing the subject.

"Is it…_Pepperoni?_" he asks, scrunching up his face in disgust. He obliges to the subject change, wanting to avoid upsetting her.

"Yes," she glares at him before giving him a smirk as she adds, "…and mushroom."

"I'd love some." He watches her as she grabs a couple plates and retrieves a few slices for him. "I'd also like a place to stay."

"I'm not feeling _that_ generous, Freckles." She hands him his plate, then gets a couple slices for herself. "If you're planning on staying in L.A. for a little while, why can't you go to some motel nearby or something?"

"Motels don't have you there, though."

"_Dez…_"

"What? You don't have a roommate. It won't get too crowded in here."

"The reason I don't have a roommate is because I like my privacy. _You can't stay here_." She sits herself beside him on her bed, starting on her pizza.

"Fine. But I only have enough money with me for a plane ride back, so I'm going to need some cash." Dez takes a bite into one of his slices of pizza. Trish sighs.

"Ugh, _alright_. You can stay. One night. Then you're headed back," Trish directs. If there's one thing she hated more than sharing a room, it was lending people money. "But you're sleeping on the floor."

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

**Welp, they seem to be getting along alright so far. Although, they haven't really entirely talked things through as of yet. o:**

**Is Dez no longer upset at her? Or is he just keeping it all in for now? Where does Kye fit in in all this? Where the heck did Trent go? What the heck are Austin and Ally up to? And **_**does Trish like mushrooms now?**_

**MADNESS!**

**Thanks again to all of my lovely reviewers and readers for your continued support and patience. c:**


	8. Chapter 8 - Finals & Fists

**I'm so terrible, you guys, I'm sorry! I've been really stuck on what to write. D:  
Much of this story is improv'd, so bear with me.**

**Also - my graduation is today! :D Woop! I should probably go to bed now.**

**Warning: a bit of violence is involved in this, not too much – but just thought I'd warn y'all.**

**I hope you like this chapter, all the same!**

* * *

Trish lifts her head from the drool-coated page of her textbook – the blanket that had been draped around her shoulders falling in the process. She awakens to the delectable aroma of fried eggs and toast dancing about her nose, beckoning her. _One of my dorm-mates actually made breakfast?,_ she wonders. She opens her eyelids halfway, squinting at the light they had let in. _Who drew the curtains?_

It takes her a moment to realize that Dez is standing there, breakfast tray in hand, waiting patiently for her to awaken.

"Good morning, Curly." He smiles down at her, pushing her textbook aside with one hand and setting the tray down on her desk with the other. Trish sneers, catching sight of the silly "kiss the cook" apron that he's wearing.

"That's not an order, is it?" she laughs out, pointing at his smock. Dez rolls his eyes, ruffling her hair lightly, only to have her swat his hand away.

"More like suggestion." He unties the apron from the back, takes it off, and tosses it aside. "Now, eat up. Judging by that stack of pizza boxes by the trash can and the granola bar wrappers everywhere, it doesn't seem like you've had a decent meal in a while."

"It's not like we got a personal chef here, Dez. And you _know_ I can't cook for crap." Trish pokes lightly at one of the eggs with her fork. Dez had presented the eggs and toast in smiley-face format, as expected – only, instead of a strip of bacon being the smile, he ripped up the toast in order to form it. _We must've run out of bacon_, she assumes.

"I beg to differ – your sand cookies are _amazing_," he remarks. Trish gives him a look of disgust, then turns her attention back onto her plate. She takes a hesitant bite out of one of the eggs, only to find herself scarfing down the rest just moments later. She had forgotten how great of a cook he is.

"You like them?" Dez smirks at her, taking a seat in a nearby chair and resting his chin in his hand as he watches her eat voraciously.

"They alrigh," she says with her mouth half-full. She swallows and shrugs, trying her best to prevent herself from stroking that ego of his with any compliments. "Could use some salt."

"_Please_, Trish. I _know_ when people enjoy my cooking." He shakes his head, disappointed at the lack of gratitude.

"Thank you," she states, as if reading his mind – her eyes focused down on the tray. "You're right, I haven't had a real meal in a while…So, thanks. It's delicious." She caved. She _had_ to give him this; the guy flew across the country for her sake, after all.

"Hm? O-oh…Y-yeah, no problem, Trish," Dez stutters out, quite startled by her sudden show of appreciation. "I'll…I'll go get you that salt." He starts to get up from his chair, only to have Trish tug him back down into his seat by the arm.

"It's okay. I changed my mind. Doesn't need salt, after all." She continues eating, as Dez watches her, his eyes occasionally shifting nervously from side to side. Trish being nice to him must mean she wants something from him, _right?_

Feeling a bit awkward eating alone while Dez just sits there, Trish asks him, "Where's _your_ food?"

"Oh, I ate already," he answers. Trish nods. Dez pauses for a beat, then asks, "You want some orange juice or milk with that?"

"I'll go with the O-J."

"Got it." He salutes her, rising up from his chair and heading out the door and down the hall.

Trish finishes up her eggs, then starts on the toast – wondering how grand of a mess he had made in the kitchen. _The dorm-mates aren't going to be happy about that_, she realizes. She hopes that Dez had actually taken the time to clean up. He's _her_ guest, ergo _her_ responsibility, and the blame would fall on _her_.

Dez returns with the glass of orange juice, setting it down beside her tray. "So…Got a big test today?" he asks, his chin finding its way back onto his hand.

"Yup. It's a final that I _really_ need to ace." She lifts the glass of juice to her lips and takes a small sip.

"In order to pass? _Has someone not been doing their homework?_" he mocks her, grinning.

"No, _you doof_, in order to stay on the Honor Roll." She glares at him, taking another sip of her O-J. Dez raises his brows, quite shocked by what he's hearing.

"You've been on the _Honor Roll_?" Dez's look of bewilderment is enough to make her want to smack him – but she restrains herself.

"Your confidence in me is flattering, Dez," she snarks. She finishes off her juice, then turns to him. "Is it _really_ that surprising that I've been working hard? I didn't come way out here to mess around." Dez shifts his gaze to the floor, feeling a heavy pang of guilt hitting him due to his verbal blunder.

"I-I didn't mean it like that…I just…" He sighs. "You never really took school seriously, y'know? I just thought–"

"–You were just fishing for an excuse to get me to go back with you," Trish blurts out her immediate thoughts, regretting her words instantly as his look of remorse transforms into one of contempt.

"_What?_" he asks, sounding more commanding than confused. A cold, brooding wave of silence falls upon the room – washing away the light-hearted atmosphere entirely. Even the light coming from the outside through the window seemed to dim quite a bit, as the sun hides away beyond the clouds. Trish shifts uncomfortably in her chair, finding great difficulty facing him with his unrelenting glare on her. The wall clock's ticks grow louder and louder by the second, with the span of a few minutes stretching to feel more like an hour.

Dez tightens his lips, taking deep breaths through his nose in order to calm himself down. _Now isn't the time to argue_, he instructs himself mentally. _She's got a big test today._

"Go. Get ready for class," he directs her, lifting himself up from his seat and taking the empty dishes off her desk. "I'm gonna go wash these." He heads out the door, towards the kitchen.

Trish breathes in deep, and lets out a slow exhale – trying to prevent herself from losing her cool. _He's not the boss of me, _she tells herself. All the same, she pulls herself out of her chair and staggers her tired body off to the bathroom to primp up for class.

* * *

_Why am I freezing up now?_ Trish looks down at the paper before her. She shifts around, trying to make herself comfortable in the seat of her wobbly school desk. The test is structured in essay-question format, which is usually a lot easier for her to work with than multiple choice, interestingly enough. She needed to conclude the short essay with some last hard-hitting points supporting the thesis statement. The pressure is on as she has only five minutes left to complete the paper, and she can practically feel the walls of the classroom closing in on her. Her stress manages to block off any information from moving to the forefront of her mind, however. Try as she might to recall the necessary information, she's stuck.

Everyone else had already finished up and left the room. Trish hates being the last one out. She hates people watching her struggle, and she swears that the teacher himself must be judging her for it, as well. He seems impatient, tapping his foot and rocking back and forth in his chair – eager to leave.

The ticking of the clock seems to amplify in volume, and she is reminded of what happened this morning. She inhales and exhales deeply, realizing that she needs to push herself. If she fails this test, she wouldn't be able to face that red-headed visitor of hers. She can practically see his face, mocking her; ridiculing her. Telling her that _he told her so_. She figures that he would use this failure as added ammo to persuade her to return to Florida with him. Fueled by the need to prove herself to Dez, she puts her pencil to paper and continues to write – her mental blockage now shattered. _I can do this_, she urges herself on. _He won't win._

"Time," her teacher states after a few minutes, getting up from his seat. "Miss De La Rosa, turn in your paper." Trish releases her grip on the pencil, having just finished writing her last sentence. She lets out a sigh of relief as she walks on over to the teacher's desk to turn her test in. As she turns around to leave, the instructor calls her name.

"Trish?"

"Yes, Mr. Sharma?" she asks, turning to face him, worried that she had done something wrong_. Did I read the questions incorrectly? How did he read through it so fast?_ Many questions flood her mind, her anxiety on the rise. She tenses up, gritting her teeth as she awaits his words.

"You forgot to write your name," he smiles at her, writing her name down on the test for her. "Excellence should not go without proper credit." Trish lets out a relieved chuckle and nods.

"Thank you, Mr. Sharma." She slings her backpack over her shoulder, relieved at the fact that all of her finals have been completed. Now all that awaits her are the dreaded grade postings_. I'll be damned if I don't make it onto the honor roll. I've never worked so hard in my life!_

"You are very welcome, Miss De La Rosa. It was a pleasure having you in class," he nods, proceeding to pack up his things. "Now go on, get some rest. You look exhausted," he laughs.

"Will do, Mr. Sharma, will do." She grips her book bag and steps out into the hallway, feeling quite confident that she had done well.

Interestingly enough, it was all thanks to Dez.

* * *

"Yeah, I'll be staying here a little while – one, maybe two weeks," Dez speaks into the receiver of his phone.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Austin replies on the other end. "There's a lotta heat between you two right now – and not the _good_ kind either."

"What's the _good_ kind?"

"Well…See…N-never mind. Point is, you guys are still mad at each other. You said so yourself. I don't think you staying there would do you both any good. Just go back," Austin pleads his best friend, worried that Dez will just find a way to make everything worse. "Plus, don't you have classes to go to?"

"Austin, I'm on break for a couple weeks. And Trish is about to be on hers after this last exam. This is my chance to make things right again – I mean, I should at least try, right? I'm staying here, Austin."

"Yeah, but–" Austin is cut off by Trish's booming voice, making the two boys jump in their seats.

"Like _HELL_ you are!"

"Trish! Y-you're back! How'd the test go?" Dez turns her way, then whispers back to Austin into the phone. "I'll talk to you later, buddy." He hangs up and pockets his cell, then proceeds to walk over to Trish, arms outstretched as he goes in for a hug.

"Stop." Trish holds a hand out in front of herself, denying him the embrace. "What do you _mean_ you're staying here?"

"Honestly?" He sighs before continuing, "I miss you, Trish. _Okay?_"

"Dez, you can't do this. You can't be here, I'm still mad at you." She drops her hand and turns her attention to the window, trying to avoid looking at him.

"And I'm still upset with _you_, but at least I'm _trying_ to still be friends." He draws closer to her, reaching for her hand, only to have her hide it behind her back.

"_Out_. Get _out_," she orders him while pointing at the door with her other hand, still refusing to meet her eyes with his.

"_Trish_…" he whimpers, his voice breaking. "_Don't do this._"

"Stop being such a big baby, Dez. Just deal with the fact that you can't fix this. I need _time_."

"We haven't talked in months, Trish. It's been driving me crazy!" he cries out, falling down to his knees and clinging to her legs desperately. She finds her gaze finally meeting his, looking up at her with glazed-over eyes.

"Well, you should've thought about before you decided to yell at me over the phone! _Get offa me, bozo!_" She attempts to kick him off of her legs, but he latches on tight.

"Trish, _please_, hear me out…" he continues to beg, his grip only getting tighter every time she struggles to get him off. She clenches her fists, rage quickly boiling up inside of her.

"I said…" she hisses between her clenched teeth. "Get. _OFF!_" Before she could even realize what she was doing, her fist comes down like a hammer – slamming itself down on the sobbing boy's nose. Needless to say, he lets go.

"Oh…Oh my gosh…Dez!" Trish kneels down beside the boy, who is now curled up on the floor with his hands over his nose, wailing in pain. "Dez…Dez, let me see!" she demands, trying to pry his hands off. Everything happened so fast; her rage had somehow managed to find a way to take control of her. Once again. And Dez happened to have been on the receiving end of it. Once again.

She manages to peel his hands off of his face, revealing the mess she had made. Blood trickles down his lips from his nose as his frightened eyes looking up at her, welling with tears. His face had paled, looking as if he's about to faint.

"_Dez…_" Trish bites her lower lip, not sure what to say for herself. "I…I'm so sorry," she whispers, just loud enough for him to hear her. She watches as a look of relief instantly returns his face to a neutral state, his cheeks flushing with color once again. His fearful look was mostly him preparing himself for more of a beat-down from her.

"Heh…That…That's okay, Trish." He smiles up at her as she places his head in her lap, reaching for a tissue box that happened to be close by. She wipes his bloodied hands off first, then starts cleaning up his face. Her shaking hands finish the job soon enough. Dez looks up at her, watching her guilt-ridden expression with softened eyes.

"Dez…You need to leave. For your own sake, okay?" she implores him. "You _know_ how I get when I'm mad at you. I don't want to hurt you." He smiles, laughing out lightly. Trish wonders if that sock to his nose made him lose his sanity.

"You said you were sorry. So we're good," the red-headed boy utters softly. Trish's mouth hangs slightly agape, dumbfounded by his lenient response. She notices his eyelids lowering.

"Dez – I _broke_ your nose," she yells at him. "_How can you be cool with that?!_"

"_I don't…We…You…Banana…_" he starts mumbling, his eyelids closing shut. _Oh, no, he's lost it, _Trish realizes_. I must've really knocked the sense out of him this time_.

"_Dez!_" the nervous girl shouts at him. She pats him lightly on the cheek, trying to get him to come to, to no avail. "Dez, I think I need to get you to a hospital…" She lifts his head up off of her lap and gingerly sets it down onto the floor. "I'm going to call Trent to drive you there. Stay put, okay?" As she starts lifting herself up off of the ground, she feels a light tug on her arm. Dez's hand grips her wrist firmly, holding her there beside him. A few words escape his lips, so softly that Trish could only just barely hear them. Although, just as soon as she hears his murmurs, she wishes that she hadn't.

"_I love you, Trish._"

* * *

**Ohhhh, gosh. **_**Trish, what have you done?**_

**And _Dez_...Welp, I guess being in such a state can cause one to slip up and say things that may not have come out otherwise, yes?**

**Agh. I'm not too happy with this chapter, but I hope you guys found it interesting enough. ^^;**

**-AJ**


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